A lone figure walked along the race track’s racing line, absently observing the thin layer of rubber deposited on the tarmac. Weaving between the track’s corners like a strip of stretched elastic band, the trail of rubber marked the path which have been travelled most often, and thus the path of minimal resistance.

The moon was up, a thin sliver of light barely discernible between light tufts of clouds.

His aunt would be getting married in 13 days, when the moon would be full. He had applied for 2 weeks of leave, but like in most racing teams, the services of the aerodynamist were critically needed for pre-season development.


Ahh what the hell… this piece of fiction is going nowhere; look exactly the same as the previous one.


***

In recent times, a certain class of events have morphed from mere occurrences to stimulants. They are starting to provoke a weak emotional response.

It’s not exactly disturbing, but I’d rather not be poked.

Pyrotechnics

Click here for large size image
Click here for Deviant Art entry

The Moomba Water Festival held in Melbourne over the weekend had pyrotechnics. Tripod density along the river banks was preposterous. Oh, here’s a Manfrotto ball-head. And look, there’s a carbon-fibre Velbon over there!